Tag Archives: facade

dare to care, care to dare?

i know i’ll tell

them to please

just stay away

i know i’ll say

that i’m simply

fine and okay

but i’m a liar

even to myself

all these words

are so twisted

i’m a lone wolf

and eaten alive

buried under in

my own secrets

and sometimes i

just wish there’s

someone that can

see past the show

someone daring

enough to ask me

further, instead of

just letting it go.

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Filed under Poetry

What’s Her Name

She’s a rebel, she’s a saint
She’s the salt of the earth
And she’s dangerous
She’s a rebel, vigilante
Missing link on the brink
Of destruction…

~*~

She won’t leave until the lights turn red

Troublesome girl, rebelling past the bed

A softspoken tongue, serpentine temper

Stories of surprising anarchy and terror

A saint with horns, little girl with a knife

A lace veiled bride, a bruise beating wife

Rules don’t concern her, A-game’s about

Bosses and bitches, she can take ’em out

Perspectives changing as it tore the walls

I guess I never really knew that girl at all

Past her charming smile and demure eyes

The beast to be feared when unleashed lies.

~*~

She’s a rebel, she’s a rebel, she’s a rebel
And she’s dangerous!

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H.appiness, E.nergy, L.ove, P.assion, ME.

Did someone turn the lights out
Or is it just another dark cloud in my head?
Cause I’m cut deep, my heart won’t beat
Deep down low it’s killing me
If I wanna scratch out yesterday
I’ve got so much I need to say…

~*~

Just how can you stop the loaded weapon

From being pulled, when the hair trigger

Is your own rapidly palpitating heart?

Oh shut up me, you don’t know any better,

But you wished that you did from the start.

Plastering hard concrete on your visage

To permanently solidify your playacted role

As the beast inside you sharpens its razor teeth

Screeching against your sandpaper rough soul

And those blinded idiots never quite knew

The shit storm you were really going through

Never saw that your mannequin plastic smile

Was too perfect, just too happy to be real

Calculated and practised to be worthwhile

That it radiates the hatred that you truly feel

And it’s killing you, you’re so sick of the disease

You’re weak, spineless, an apathetic neurotic

So damn useless, bitter as the coffee you dismiss

How can one be paralysed by being pathetic?

But hell, it’s just a stupid phase, isn’t it?

Can’t concern mom and dad with my bullshit

It’s just an angst desperation, demon arms race

Can’t bother my friends with the problems I face

Trying to convince yourself you won’t choke

As you wipe fingerprints off your bruised throat

Suffocation of a rapid fire oxygen evacuation

I’m happy, I’m happy, can’t you see my emotion?

The lights of the stars burrow under the moon

The shadows infect you with regal monster gloom

Glass exhibits of your blank face in the museum

They stuff and capture you, put you in the tomb

Another day of read lines, red lines on the wall

You don’t break your fall when that curtain falls

I’m not alone…I’m not alone…but…I’m lonely

I’m fighting, I’m fighting, and I’m losing badly.

And you raise your lacerated blue wrists again

Praying to the charcoal dark smoke of heaven

But the inky-black blood that is raining down

Is never enough for you to completely drown

Your voice splinters as you choke on your laugh

Judgement glaring through, you try to keep it up

But it’s not enough at all, no, it’s never enough…

No, you’re just never fucking enough.

~*~

I think I need help
Cause I’m drowning in myself
It’s sinking in, I can’t pretend
That I ain’t been through hell
I think I need help
I’m drowning in myself.

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See Jane

Jane was taught many things throughout the course of her life. Jane was taught to be a good girl to mummy and daddy. Jane was taught to say her prayers and obey what she was told to do. Jane was taught to clean herself up and clean up after herself. Jane was taught to do her straight auburn hair up in ribbons and pigtails, polish her red maryjane shoes into a dazzling shine, and wear her best cotton pastel dresses. Jane was taught to walk with proper posture, smile gracefully, speak in a soft feminine voice, and to go about with tasks in an elegant finesse. Jane was taught to learn her academic lessons well at the private all-girls catholic school she was attending, and as well as her weekly lessons about faith and God at Sunday class in the town church. Jane was taught not to play too roughly, never to join the bad flock of black sheep, and to generally stay out of trouble. Jane was taught to be polite, friendly, amiable, and to be approachable and presentable. Simply put, Jane was trained to be a perfect girl, and she was taught to love it.

What was wrong with Jane?

Jane was the epitome of nice. Jane was the classic textbook example of the girl next door; charming, demure, a bonny maiden with a beautiful appearance and personality, living a scripted, sterile, storybook suburban life. Jane was a starchild, excelling in everything and anything, always at her best. Jane was sociable, had lots of friends and could easily make new acquaintances. In the morning, among the company of people, she was quite pleasant, a darling sweetheart in the glossed-over, uncrutinising eyes of the faceless neighbours. See Jane greet. See Jane traipse. See Jane dance. See Jane laugh. See Jane wave. See Jane smile. See Jane happy. But alas, that was the full extent of their limited perception. To them, Jane could be summed up in positive words less than three syllables long. They could never see the actual Jane, dark and complicated. They couldn’t glare past the cracks of the well-practised façade, and take a gander at the real version that’s not made of plastic skin and porcelain eyes, refusing to see the truth of the perfect girl that barely sleeps at night. See Jane depressed. See Jane grit her teeth. See Jane scream. See Jane self-harm. See Jane feel empty. See Jane strut mechanically. See Jane do drugs. See Jane muffle her crying on her pillow. See Jane as a complete fucking mess.

What was wrong with Jane?

Jane was taught many things in the course of her short life. Be this, be that, don’t do this, don’t do that, Jane never learned to think for herself. Simply put, Jane was brainwashed to be the perfect girl, and she absolutely hated it. In the end, it was not Jane with the fault, she was only the innocent victim. Rather, it was her guardians, her teachers, who missed a crucial lesson that might have saved Jane from self destruction. For Jane was only taught to exist, but she was never taught to live. Teeming alongside the controversy now, the very same life enveloping death that the multitudinous attendees are currently buzzing with. The haughty crowd, all clad in black garb, then proceeds to judge Jane with whispered huffs, gossiping under thin walls and blabbering behind paper fans hatefully, shaking their heads condescendingly with a chorus of tsk-tsk’s, saying stories and telling tall tales about how Jane was such an amazing girl, it’s such a waste Jane had to go this way, Jane always seemed cheerful and no one ever saw it coming, I remember that one time Jane…, Jane will be missed, nothing but senseless argot and unapologetic bereavement. Today, everyone mourned. But today, everyone also saw an accurate glimpse of Jane for the first time, and unfortunately, for the very last.

See Jane die.

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Skip the Formalities, Beau Brummell

You fucking disappointment
I can’t entertain you anymore
These stupid states of mind
Punishing me all the time (why?)
But don’t cross your boundaries
And think that it’s cool, misguided
By darkness and lost on the road…

~*~

Behind this shell of all hardboiled sensibility

Lies a creature asthenic and meek as can be

Suppressing its mentality with sardonic smiles

As blood drips solemnly on monochrome tiles

.

Wounded soul that melts into a jaded saccade

Yet amusing them still with halfhearted tirades

A clause, a parentheses, a whispered undertone

I’m (not) okay, honestly, so (don’t) leave me alone

.

Tribulations on the tongue, caught in a feckless rain

Can’t survive kid, if you’re weak with extraneous pain

Its prosaic personality a palisade of a concealed war

Against shoelaces, razorblades and praying to stars

.

Mad cry of succour insinuated in one cheeky wink

Faux pas gaffe unraveling slow with arrogant calls

Strike three impertinence, but got no time to think

Won’t anyone catch this avalanche when it falls?

.

Behind this recherché, jocularity, and insouciant eccentricity

Lies an afflicted dying monster worn and torn and fear-born

Suppressing its insanity with another apathetic remark witty

For its only weapons and barrier against a cruel world is scorn.

~*~

But I’m such a sucker for the rain
Here we are crashing once again
Into the centre of your moonlit face
Our caved-in ribs, your tears…

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Caution: FRAGILE THINGS

Scratching at the floor inside my mind.
They all accept the lie
So bury what you are outside
Brother, please don’t be afraid of me
I know you’re tortured within
And your eyes look hungry again
But I’ll never wander, my friend…

~*~

…I know you’re broken again.

Dropped around so you put a faint sloppy smile on your flushed face that winds up dead

You’re ripping pages apart and erasing carefully those ugly murky dark finger ink stains

That betray the crimson words and scarlet fevers that your wounded soul has already bled

.

I know you’re broken again.

Not handled properly, so you bite on your chafed ragged fingernails to the very bone

And when your absconded voice runs out of sappy silver songs to hear and lend

All that screeches in your knotted earphones is lyrical dissonance and static tones

.

I know you’re broken again.

Tossed about, and that bubbly sweetened façade fizzles, falling tastelessly flat

You’re stabbing rueful aching defamations that your hushed lips never meant

And even God gets tired of your weakening queries of who’s and why’s and what’s

.

I know you’re broken again.

When those fragile blue glass eyes never really quite meet the glance of faith

Grimaced mouth waiting to snap, twitching like ochre flaming moths in pain

Drowning in shots after shots of stinging ethanol in a pub to sober up your hate

.

I know you’re broken again.

When every quiet whisper of your heart chambers reek badly of senseless suicide

Backed by the clanking chains wrapped in your shallow breathing throat, paced to remain

When your serpentine skin sheds to bare a beastly monster into a somnolent night

.

I know you’re broken again.

Those transparent crystal dragonfly wings will always continue crumbling down, sweetie

So just tell me, just tell me, confess under these chandelier midnight skies and silent drumlins

Won’t you tell me the truth already, ’cause I really thought that I never meant to hurt nobody

.

I know you’re broken again.

Falling apart into fettered jigsaw pieces, wading soggy and silent on the shower floor

Scalded glimmering tears and soap-studded scars, and down the rusty drain they blend

Screaming nothings to the stained tiles and they only echo back until your ears are sore

.

I know you’re broken again.

And you know I can see past your haunted dreams and marionette theatrical show

And we both know I also spend a thousand nights awake caught in emotions of frigid snow

I can see through your perfect acting, I’m just another actor who crashed your play though

.

I know you’re broken again.

With those telltale signs, those nuanced symptoms, those empty orange prescriptions

You’re shaking pink pills and suppressing purple chills and tasting bitterly warm oxygen

No complex mystery, only crestfallen sympathy, honestly, you’re mirroring my every depiction

.

No need to hide and desensitise and patch up with poignant pretty lies, I know you’re broken again

You’re a dimming lightbulb with a flickering glow of hope and it’s shattering my hued fairy lights when

There’s no need for wasting life on lost farewells and waiting list-prayers, I know we’re broken again

But we’re tangled selfishly in our own great escapes, caught up in sin, why didn’t we think to just fix each other then?

.

…I know we’re broken beyond repair.

~*~

This is not what I want
But now it’s what I need
Can I just have one more taste
Just to make it through the day?
You’re tangled in
You’re tangled in the great escape…

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Self-Incarceration

Why do you need so badly to hide

Under that false façade?

Little one, haven’t you ever tried

To live your life unafraid of blood?

.

Can’t you shed that faux expression

Without being scared of decimation?

Terrified of acrid words that wound

But really, how much does it matter to you?

.

Little one, the world’s not a prison

Sure, it may be filled with obstacles and treason

But really, the only chains that stop you so

Are the ones that your emotions shackled to your own.

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Filed under Poetry